Hermione Granger
by Anonymous Muse
Summary: Hermione's version of Harry Potter. I wrote most from the book, but had to adapt some to fit Hermione. Depending on your comments I may or may not publish more.
1. Chapter 1

*This is originally J.K Rowling's Harry Potter, I just changed it a bit to fit another character.

CHAPTER ONE

THE GIRL WHO LEARNED

Mr. and Mrs. Granger, of number 12, Charlesprey Drive, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you would ever expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn't know anything about it.

Mr. Granger was a dentist. He was a thin faced man with fair auburn hair. Mrs. Granger was also thin and dark haired. They both had rather long necks which came in very useful as they spent much of their time craning down their dental patients throats. The Grangers had a small daughter called Hermione and in their opinion there was no finer girl anywhere.

The Grangers had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about Hermione. She was unusually bright for her age, in fact the Grangers were proud to say that she had begun walking at age three months. And that she'd begun talking in complete sentences around the same time. Reading and writing started soon after. They were afraid that professors might come to take Hermione away.

When Mr. and Mrs. Granger woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Granger hummed as he picked out his most boring lab coat for work, and Mrs. Granger gossiped away happily as she tucked Hermione, who was quietly observing the weather, into her high chair.

None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Granger picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Granger on the cheek, and tried to kiss Hermione goodbye but missed, because Hermione was now thrusting her hand in the air so as to be picked to answer Mrs. Granger's question of what she wanted for breakfast. "Smart girl," chortled Mr. Granger as he left the house. He got in his car and backed out of number four's drive.

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar- a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr. Granger didn't realize what he had seen- then he jerked his head around to look again. The tabby cat that had looked lost was now walking away down the street towards Privet Drive. No map was in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Granger blinked and stared at the cat. As Mr. Granger drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now reading the sign that said Privet Drive-no, _looking _at the sign; cats couldn't read maps _or_ signs. Mr. Granger gave himself a little shake and put the cat out of his mind. As he drove toward town he thought of nothing except a root canal he was hoping to perform today.

But on the edge of town, root canals were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr. Granger couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes-the getups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Granger was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Granger that this was probably some charity collecting . . . yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Granger arrived outside his office,which was located next to the drill firm; Grunnings, his mind back on root canals.

Mr. Granger always sat with his back back to the window in his office on the 3rd floor. If he hadn't he might have found it harder to concentrate that morning. _He_ didn't see the owls swooping in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Granger, however had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He arranged appointments with five different people. He pulled several wisdom teeth, and gave one little girl braces. He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a roll from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. he eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch was whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large cinnamon roll in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard-"

"-yes, their son, Harry-"

Mr. Granger paid no mind, so he was disturbed to see a large man staring fearfully at the group. The large man turned away and walked quickly into Grunnings. Mr. Granger walked leisurely across the street to his office. He found a phone book and looked up Potter, Harry as that was the only full name he'd heard. He quickly gave up as there were far too many Potters in the city.

When he left the building that afternoon he accidentally ran into a tiny old man wearing a violet cloak. The man didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passerby stare, " Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourselves should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr. Granger around the knees and walked off towards Grunnings.

Mr. Granger stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because imagination was not important to dentistry.

As he drove past Privet Drive, he saw the tabby cat of that morning sitting on the garden wall outside of number four. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes. He watched as a large man got out of his car and make a shooing motion towards the cat.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him what appeared from this angle to be a stern look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Granger wondered. He continued driving home. He let himself into number 12. He was now determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Granger had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Hermione's attempts to ride the dog; an Irish Setter named Red. Mr. Granger tried to act normally. When Hermione had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"

"Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early-it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."

Mr. Granger sat frozen in his arm chair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters . . .

Mrs. Granger came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er-Amy, dear-you haven't heard anything about the owls and shooting stars all over the country lately, have you?"

As he had expected, Mrs. Granger looked shocked. After all, they normally had a normal life, and discussed normal things.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Granger mumbled. "Owls . . . shooting stars . . . and there was a lot of funny-looking people in town today . . ."

_ "So?" _snapped Mrs. Granger.

"Well, I just thought . . . maybe . . . it was something you would have heard about."

Mrs. Granger sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Granger wondered whether he should ask her if she knew anyone named Harry Potter. He pushed the thought aside as obviously anyone she knew, he was also acquainted with.

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Granger was in the bathroom, Mr. Granger crept upstairs to say goodnight to Hermione.

The Grangers got into bed. Mrs. Granger fell asleep quickly but Mr. Granger lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that there was no way his family could be involved, so it didn't concern him.

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Granger might have been drifting off into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on Privet Drive was showing no signs of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on privet Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and beard, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore then put out all the light posts on the street with his Put-Outer. The cat then transfigured into a woman. The two had a long conversation, during which a large hairy man appeared with a baby. Albus Dumbledore took the baby from this man and placed him on the stoop of number 4 Privet Drive. He also left a letter for the residents of this house. The three adults then left. The residents of the house, a certain Mr. and Mrs. Dursley soon found the boy. They raised him for ten years.


	2. Chapter 2

*This is originally J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter, I just changed it to fit another character.

CHAPTER TWO

THE VANISHING GLASS

Nearly ten years had passed since that strange day when owls flew during the day and funnily dressed people crowded the streets, but Charlesprey Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number 12 on the Granger's front door; it crept into their living, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Granger had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of Hermione talking and walking - but Hermione was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed her riding her first bicycle, reading the dictionary, and the encyclopedia, twice, and Hermione at her birthday celebrations. The room held no sign at all that a dog lived in the house, too. Yet Red was still there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Mrs. Granger was awake and it was her yawn that made the first noise of the day.

"Yaaaaaaahhhhhhhh"

Hermione awoke to the sound of the frying pan. She rolled onto her back and tried to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one. There had been a castle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

Her mother was outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she inquired.

"Nearly", said Hermione.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you burn it. I want everything to be perfect on your father's birthday."

Hermione groaned.

"What did you say?" her mother snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing . . ."

Her father's birthday- how could she have forgotten? Hermione got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair in her drawer and pulled them on.

When she was dressed he went downstairs into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath a rather large birthday present for her father. It looked as though Mr. Granger had gotten the new lawn mower he wanted. Exactly why Mr. Granger wanted a lawn mower was a mystery to Hermione, as Mrs. Granger's lawn was very well kept by the city.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a house with two dentists, but Hermione had always been small and skinny for her age. She looked even smaller and skinnier than she really was because her hair was so frizzy that it stuck out from her head. Hermione had a thin face, knobby knees, brown hair, and hazel eyes. The only thing Hermione liked about her own appearance was her very small delicate looking nose.

Mr. Granger entered the kitchen as Hermione was turning over the bacon.

"Straighten your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Mr. Granger looked over the top of his newspaper and said that Hermione needed a new hair product. Hermione must have gone through more different kinds of hair products than the rest of the girls in her class put together, but it made no difference, her hair simply frizzed.

Hermione was frying eggs by the time her family sat down to breakfast. Her parents both looked very similar with plain features and thin brown hair.

Hermione put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Mr. Granger, meanwhile, was opening his present. His face lit up.

"G-36!" he said looking up at his wife and daughter. "That's the latest model!"

"Only the best for you darling, I knew you'd like it. The instruction manual is in the box. Have fun putting that together!"

"All right, I will then" said Mr. Granger going very red in the face. "Shall we go to the zoo today? I heard there was a new exhibit of a polar bear!"

"That sounds like great fun sweetie. We could go to commemorate your birthday."

At that moment the telephone rang and Mrs. Granger went to answer it while Hermione watched her father attempting to make sense of the instruction manual. He had just finished decoding the first page when Mrs. Granger came back looking annoyed.

"Someone had the wrong number again. It was some Mrs. Figg or something calling about a broken leg."

"Ah, I see"

"Well shall we go to the zoo then?" Mr. Granger rose from the table and carried his plate to the sink. Mrs. Granger consented and as soon as all the dishes had been scrubbed they were out the door.

On the way to the zoo, Mr. and Mrs. Granger had a very long, very boring, conversation about dentistry. During this conversation Mr. Granger paused once to speak to Hermione.

"Now Hermione dear, we're going to the zoo. No one there will be like you. Please try to restrain from any funny business."

"I won't do anything, honestly dad."

But Mr. Granger had his doubts. He always did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Hermione and it was just no good telling her parents she didn't make them happen.

Once, Mrs. Granger, tired of seeing Hermione coming back from the barbers looking as frizzy as ever, had taken a straightener and straightened for hours. Hermione spent a sleepless night lying on her quite burnt hair, imagining the taunts from other children when they saw her blackened hair. Next morning, however, she had gotten up to find her hair exactly as it had been before it was straightened. When she tried to explain that she couldn't explain how it had frizzed out so quickly, her mother just sighed and shook her head.

Another time, when Hermione got mad, her parents were in a heated debate about the pros and cons of root canals and were ignoring her, all the lights went out at once. Her parents decided it must have been an electrical problem and Hermione wasn't sighed at.

On the other hand, she'd gotten in terrible trouble for being found stuck to the ceiling. She had been playing hide and seek, when as much to Hermione's surprise as anyone else's, there she was standing on the ceiling. The Grangers had a very angry conversation with their daughter. But all she'd tried to do as she explained to her parents during this conversation was jump behind a wall. Hermione supposed a very powerful updraft must have caught her in mid-jump.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with her parents to be spending a day somewhere that wasn't school, her room, or her father's dentist's office.

While he drove, Mr. Granger commented on certain aspects of life. This morning, it was castles.

". . . so majestic, rising up from the horizon," he said.

"I had a dream about a castle," said Hermione, remembering suddenly. "It was very beautiful."

"That's nice dear," her father said absentmindedly. Then he resumed his dental conversation.

Hermione wished she hadn't said anything. If there was anything she hated about her parents, it was that whenever they talked about anything having to do with teeth, they completely tuned her out.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Grangers bought Hermione a cheap lemon ice pop at the entrance. It wasn't bad, either, Hermione thought licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head.

Hermione had the best morning she'd had in a long time. She was careful to walk a little way apart from her parents, who were back to talking about teeth. They ate in the zoo restaurant. Hermione was allowed to split a Knickerbocker glory with her parents.

After lunch they went to the reptile house. It was cool and dark in there, with lit up windows all along the wall. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Hermione wanted to see the lizards. She quickly found the smallest one in the place. It could probably fit on her pinky nail. But at the moment it didn't look in the mood. Hermione watched for a few more minutes waiting for it to do something. But then moved on to another exhibit which was located right next a habitat for the largest snake in the place.

She watched as a small boy with black hair appeared to talk to the snake. The boy was then shoved out of the way by a large blond boy who was suddenly clamoring to see the snake. The glass of the habitat then vanished and the blond boy jumped away. The snake slithered out and started sliding its way down the hall. People everywhere were screaming and running about. The zoo keeper could only stand there and splutter.

Soon after that fiasco, the Grangers left the zoo for home. Of course, when they got home Hermione was sighed at and sent to her room for making the glass disappear, but as far as she knew she had done nothing. She lay on her bed much later, thinking about the glass. There was no logical way for it to have disappeared, so she presumed the boy must have been like her. Strange things happened around both of them and they were always blamed for it. She wondered what his parents had done to him. She hoped they hadn't been too harsh on him.


	3. Chapter 3

*This is originally J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter, I just changed it a bit to fit another character.

CHAPTER THREE

THE LETTER FROM NO ONE

The vanished glass and escaping cobra earned Hermione three weeks of being grounded. By the time she was free, the summer holidays had started and her father had finally figured out how to run his lawn mower. Hermione was sad that school was over, but there was no escaping her parents who continued to speak of teeth at every available moment.

This was why Hermione spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in her life, she wouldn't be with her parents. They both planned to get their master's degree in dental hygiene. She on the other hand was going to Stonewall High, the local high school.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Hermione went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from the stove top. Then she saw the dark smoke curling up from a pan that appeared to be on fire. Hermione rushed to the stove and turned off the flames and started fanning away the fumes. But it was too late, the sausage was burnt. Hermione put some more in a new pan.

When they all finally sat down to breakfast, Mr. Granger pulled out a newspaper and held it in such a way that all Hermione could see of him was his fingertips. Mrs. Granger was also covered by the newspaper. They heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Hermione," Mr. Granger said from behind the newspaper.

"Fine, I will."

Hermione pushed her chair away from the table. She stood up and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Mr. Granger's sister who was vacationing on the Emerald Isle, a brown envelope that looked like a bill and - _a letter for Hermione_.

Hermione picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a gigantic elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? She had no friends, and no relatives who spoke to her after the unfortunate incident when she was accused of levitating her grandmother's good china. Yet here it was, a letter addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

Mrs. H. Granger

The Bedroom on the Right

12 Charlesprey Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Hermione saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter _H_.

"Hurry up, Hermione!" shouted Mr. Granger from the kitchen. "Your breakfast is getting cold."

Hermione went back into the kitchen, still staring at her letter. She handed Mr. Granger the bill and postcard, sat down, and began to slowly open the yellow envelope.

Mr. Granger ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"She's having a grand old time," he informed Mrs. Granger. "Or so it would appear . . ."

"Oh, Hermione dear," his wife interrupted. Did you get a letter too? Who's it from?"

"I don't know, there's no return address. I'll probably find out when I read it."

Hermione then left the table, washed her dishes, and went upstairs to her room to read the letter. The letter read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Cofed. Of Wizards)_

Dear Mrs. Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

P.S-As you are Muggle-born, someone will come to take you to get your supplies.

Hermione wondered what a Muggle was and why this McGonagall character said she was born of them. Anyway, Hermione was even more confused by the entirety of the letter. How could she have been accepted to this place called Hogwarts? As far as she knew she'd never sent a request for acceptance there, nor had she entered any contests. She wondered what sort of a name Albus Dumbledore was. How could these people expect her owl? She definitely didn't have an owl. And even if she did, why would they expect it? And, what was all this about witchcraft and wizardry? Hermione knew she was not a witch. They were those ugly old hags who wore all black robes and pointy hats with wide brims. And they carried wands and flew brooms, even brewed nasty green potions. Also, if she was right and she always was, Hermione knew for certain that witches did not actually exist.

Hermione tucked the letter back into the thick envelope. She shook her head at the impropriety of it. The letter was probably just a prank from someone at school. Yes, that would be it. It was just a prank. After the summer holidays had begun, then she'd know who'd done it. They'd see her coming and turn away or duck their heads embarrassed. And rightfully so, they should be ashamed for pulling a prank on her!

After clearing her mind, Hermione stuffed the envelope under her mattress and flounced downstairs.


	4. Chapter 4

*This is originally J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter, I just changed it a bit to fit another character.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE KEEPER OF THE KEYS

A few days after she had received the letter, Hermione sat in her bedroom reading a book. It was a very good book about the effect of mythology on modern society. BOOM. Was that thunder? Hermione got up to check the sky, which was completely clear. Puzzled she went back to her book. BOOM. That time she knew she heard something, and it wasn't coming from the window. On a hunch, Hermione scurried downstairs and sure enough the sound got louder. She walked to the door and opened it before the poor old thing could fall over from exhaustion. What she found was so frightening that she rather wished she was still curled up with her book.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way through the door, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent to look her in the eye and said "Am I ter assume yer Hermione?"

"That depends, am I in trouble?"

By that time her parents had arrived to locate the source of all the racket. They stood paralyzed by the wall.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey. . . .

He strode over to the sofa and sat down heavily. Hermione's mother soon re-entered the room with tea for everyone.

"Sir," her father asked timidly, "what are you doing in our house?"

"Well I'm here fer Hermione o' course."

"And where might you be taking her?"

"Well, I'm here to take her to Diagon Alley fer her school things. Didn't you get a letter?"

"Yes, so you've come to collect me?"

"Obviously, are you ready ter go yet?"

"I guess so," Hermione looked around absently then turned to stare at the giant. "Yes, let's go." "I'll be back soon mum and dad."

Hermione got up from her place on the couch and followed the giant back through her front door.

"Take me arm."

"What?"

"Take my arm, and don't let go no matter what you do."

Hermione placed her small hand on his massive forearm. She stood, waiting for something, anything to happen.

"Umm . . . Mr. . . ."

"Hagrid"

"Mr. Hagrid, what exactly is supposed to be happening?"

"Hush up, I'm concentrating."

And indeed he was. Hermione watched his face as his grin grew into a scowl; his eyebrows drew together until they appeared to be only one, and his brow furrowed. Finally, Hermione's vision started to get blurry, and then she had a sudden sensation of folding in on herself. She nearly let go of Hagrid's arm in surprise, but his other massive paw came to rest on her hand, holding her in place. When the strange sensation faded, she found herself to be in an alley.

Hagrid released his hold on her hand and beckoned her to follow him as he paced off through the crowd outside a line of shops. She ran after him, nearly sprinting to keep up with his long strides. Then they arrived outside what appeared to be their destination, though Hermione couldn't see why anyone would want to go here.

A crooked sign, hanging from the eve, said "The Leaky Cauldron" in large gothic lettering. Inside looked even more dilapidated. Dirty cauldrons were piled everywhere and the putrid smell of some rancid ale stung the air. A short, fat, bartender came out from behind his counter to shake Hagrid's hand.

"The usual I presume, Hagrid?"

"Naw, I'm here to escort young Hermione to get her books and things."

"How nice, it's good to meet you Hermione.

"You too sir."

"Well we best be on our way."

Hagrid again beckoned her after him as he weaved through the tables and chairs that were placed haphazardly throughout the building. They walked out the back door to find a dead end. Hagrid walked up to the farthest brick wall, pulled out a small pink parasol and began tapping on bricks in the wall. Hermione was afraid he'd gone bonkers.

" . . .can never remember which brick . . . ah, that one . . ."

Hagrid then tapped quite decisively on a brick, then stepped back to admire his handiwork. The bricks began moving apart. The wall was eventually split into an archway. Hagrid ducked through it, and Hermione followed suit.

"Do yeh still have yer letter?"

Hermione had kept the letter on her person ever since its delivery. She pulled it from her coat pocket.

"Good ," said Hagrid." "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Hermione unfolded a second piece of paper that she hadn't noticed before, and read:

HOGWARTS SHOOL

_of _WITCHCRAFT _and _WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

Course Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling

_A beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic beasts and Where to Find Them _

by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

By Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 Wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Hermione wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

Hermione stepped through the archway and was met with a cacophony of voices and smells.


	5. Chapter 5

*This is originally J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter, i just changed it a bit to fit another character.

CHAPTER FIVE

DIAGON ALLEY

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at Hermione's amazement. They stepped through the archway. Hermione looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them. Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first"

Hermione wished she had about ten more eyes. She turned her head every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A thin woman outside a sweet shop was admiring the icing on what appeared to be an eyeball.

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Hermione's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it, "Look," Hermione heard one of them say, " the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest model yet" There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon . . ."

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was -

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Hermione. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Hermione noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it." said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Hermione made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "I've a new, Muggle-born, Hogwarts student here who needs to open an account."

"Of course, here is her new key."

The goblin handed Hermione a rather small, shiny, gold key.

"Well, that seems to be in order. May we go to her vault now please?" Hagrid asked the goblin.

"Very well," the goblin said, "I'll have someone take you down. Gornick!"

Gornick was yet another goblin. Hagrid and Hermione followed Gornick toward one of the doors leading off the hall. Hermione shivered inwardly at how pristinely kept everything was and it was run by these strange creatures. Gornick held the door open for them. Hermione, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Gornick whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Hermione tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Gornick wasn't steering.

Hermione's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she thought she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"Did you know that the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite is that stalagmites grow out of the ground, and stalactites grow down from the ceiling," said Hermione to Hagrid.

"Don't talk to me now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Gornick unlocked the door. A lot of purple smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Hermione gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins, columns of silver, heaps of bronze.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid. "Goblins set aside a trust fund for all Muggle-borns you know."

All Hermione's - it was incredible. How many times had her parents always complained about how money was tight and they couldn't afford this or that? And all the time there had been a small fortune waiting for her deep under London.

Hagrid helped Hermione pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons, he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe fer yeh." He turned to Gornick. "Back to the top now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Gornick.

They were going higher now and gathering speed. The air became warmer and warmer as they hurtled around tight corners. The went rattling past the lake again, and Hermione leaned over the side to see what was at the bottom, but H grid pulled her back by the scruff of her neck.

When they arrived back at the door, Hagrid pulled Hermione out and tottered through the door on jelly-legs. Gornick followed her out.

They stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Hermione didn't have any idea what to buy with her newfound fortune so she turned her head toward Hagrid and inquired where they were off to next.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for all occasions. "Listen, Hermione, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the leaky Cauldron? I ahte them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Hermione nodded and slipped into Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in orange.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Hermione started to speak. "Got the lot here - there's another new student being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a freckled, round face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Hermione on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Hermione.

"My father's next door with Fred and George buying books for Percy and Mum's up the street buying him an owl," said the boy. He had bright red hair and Hermione was having trouble finding something else to look at as it was so distracting. After this, I think I'll go next door to look at racing brooms. They're so cool, even though we just have an ancient Comet 360.

"Sorry," Hermione interrupted." But what's a Comet 360?"

"It's a broom model. Have any idea what House you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Hermione, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Gryffindor, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, that would be awful."

"Mmm," said Hermione, wishing she could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Hermione and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Hermione, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's sort of the gamekeeper isn't he?"

"Yes, exactly, it was nice meeting you."

"See ya mate."

"That's you done, my dear," said Madam Malkin. And Hermione hopped off the stool and began to walk out the door, carrying her new robes.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I guess," said the red-haired boy.

Hermione was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her (strawberry with chocolate).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Hermione lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Hermione cheered up a bit when she found the book store. When they had left the shop, she said, "Hagrid, what's Hufflepuff?'

"Blimey, Hermione, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know - not knowin' about the houses!'

"Don't make me feel worse," said Hermione. She told Hagrid about the red-haired boy in Madam Malkin's.

"Well, he's probably young Ron Weasley. The whole lot of 'em have bright red hair."

"So what is Hufflepuff?"

"It's one of the four houses at Hogwarts. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but -"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Hermione gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. " There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Who's You-Know-Who?"

"He's only the darkest wizard that ever lived. He was defeated by a young one by the name o' Harry Potter.

"Oh," said Hermione in a small voice.

They bought Hermione's potion ingredients in the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man at the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for Hermione, Hermione herself examined lizard eyes at ten Galleons a scoop and bowtruckle arms at thirty-one Galleons a piece.

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Hermione's list again.

"Just yer wand left. Off to Ollivander's now, only place for wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand . . . this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Hermione felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly up to the ceiling. For some reason the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Hermione jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Hermione awkwardly.

"Ah, a new student," said the man. "Yes, I can help you find a wand young one."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Hermione. Hermione wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Well now, we shall have to find a wand you favor, won't we?" It wasn't a question. 'Of course I say choose a wand you favor, it's really the wand that chooses the wizard."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he he and Hermione were almost nose to nose. Hermione could see herself reflected in those misty eyes.

He shook his head and then, to Hermione's relief, spotted Hagrid.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! how nice to see you again . . . . oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er - yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't _use_ them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. hermione noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm,' said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look.

"Well, now - what is your name?" said Mr. Ollivander.

"H-Hermione Granger, sir," said Hermione.

"Mrs. Granger, let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "which is your wand arm?"

"Well, I'm left-handed," said Hermione.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Hermione from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round her head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mrs. Granger. we use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another witch's wand."

Hermione suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring her ear canals, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mrs. Granger. Try this one. Elm wood and unicorn hair. Eight inches. Nice and whippy. Just take it and give it a wave.

Hermione took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and dragon heart string. Eleven inches. Not pliable. Try -"

Hermione tried - but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no - here, oak and phoenix feather, nine inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Hermione tried. And tried. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - vine and dragon heart string, ten and three-quarter inches, fairly pliable."

Hermione took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of blue and purple sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well, that was fun wasn't it."

He put Hermione's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper. Mr. Ollivander looked up and fixed Hermione with his pale stare.

Hermione shivered. She wasn't sure she liked Mr. Ollivander too much. She paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Hermione and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, and back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Hermione didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; she didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the pointy hat on Hermione's head. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Hermione only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped her on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Hermione a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Hermione kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

You all right, Hermione? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

Hermione wasn't sure she could explain. She'd just had the strangest day of her life.

"Hagrid, how am I to get to school?"

"Ah, right, almost forgot about that," he dug around in his many pockets finally pulling out something that looked like a train ticket. "Yer train ticket fer Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket . . . See yeh soon, Hermione."

The train pulled out of the station. Hermione wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; she rose in her seat and pressed her nose against the window, but she blinked and Hagrid had gone.


	6. Chapter 6

*This is originally J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter, I just changed it a bit to fit another character.

CHAPTER SIX

THE JOURNEY FROM  
>PLATFORM NINE AND<br>THREE – QUARTERS

Hermione's last month with her parents was spent reading. She read and reread her new school books enough times to memorize all the names, dates, and creatures. Her parents were slightly wary of what the large man had called their daughter. He had called her a witch. Neither of them had any experience with witches so they kept to themselves and out of Hermione's way. Although this was something of an improvement because it left her free to study her books, it did become a bit depressing after a while.

Hermione had put up a calendar in her room on which she counted down the days to September the first.

On the last day of August she thought she'd better speak to her parents about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so she went down to the living room where they were playing chess.

"Er, dad, would it be all right if you drove me to King's Cross Station tomorrow?

"Of course Hermione, when do you need to be there?" he said mildly.

"Ten-thirty."

"Bit of a funny way to travel to a witches' school. Have all your brooms broken down? Where is this school anyway?"

"I don't know," said Hermione, realizing this for the first time. She pulled the ticket Hagrid had given her out of her pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three - quarters at eleven o'clock," she read.

Her parents stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three – quarters."

"Well, that's a bit odd isn't it?" was all her father commented.

Hermione woke at four o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep. She got up and pulled on her jeans because she didn't want to walk into the station in her robes – she's change on the train. She checked and double – checked her Hogwarts list yet again to make sure she had everything she needed, and then paced the room waiting for her parents to wake up. Two hours later, Hermione's huge, heavy trunk had been loaded into the Granger's car.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Hermione's parents let her out of the car and helped to carry the trunk out of the car and had set off for work. Hermione dragged her trunk along after her until she found a cart and wheeled it across the station. She quickly found platform nine. Directly next to it was platform ten. She saw no platform nine and three – quarters.

She stopped a passing guard. He had never heard of Hogwarts and when Hermione couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Hermione was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate Hermione asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Hermione was now trying hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, she had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and she had no idea how to do it.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell him something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. She wondered if she should get out her wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

At that moment an old lady wearing a very large hat with a stuffed vulture on top and dragging a young boy by the ear. Hermione was able to catch a snippet of the conversation between the two.

"- packed with Muggles, of course-"

Hermione swung round. The speaker was an old woman with a pinched face. She wore a moth-eaten vulture atop her hat and carried a large red handbag. She dragged a round-faced boy along behind her by his ear. He carried a large toad. The boy was pulling a trunk behind him.

Heart hammering, Hermione pushed her cart after them. They stopped in front of the dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten. She walked briskly up towards the woman.

"Excuse me," Hermione said to the old woman.

"Hello, dear," she said." First time at Hogwarts? Neville's new too."

She nodded towards the boy who was trailing behind her. He was short, round-faced and now had no toad.

"Yes," said Hermione. "The thing is - the thing is, I don't know how to —"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said sharply, and Hermione nodded hesitantly.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. It's best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Neville."

"Er – okay," said Hermione. She pushed her trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

She started to walk toward it. People jostled her on their way to platforms nine and ten. Hermione walked more quickly. She was going to smash right into that barrier and then she'd be in trouble - leaning forward on her cart, she broke into a heavy run - the barrier was coming nearer and nearer - he wouldn't be able to stop - the cart was out of control - she was a foot away - she closed her eyes ready for the crash -

It didn't come . . . she kept on running . . . she opened her eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Hermione looked behind her and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters _on it. She had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Hermione pushed her cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat. She passed Neville who was saying,

"Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, _Neville_," she heard the old woman sigh.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Hermione pressed on through the crowd until she found an empty compartment near the end of the train. She started to shove and heave her trunk toward the train door. She tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice she dropped it painfully on her foot.

"Want a hand?" It was a red-haired boy standing near her. He vaguely resembled the boy she'd met in Madam Malkin's.

"Yes, please," Hermione panted.

"Oy, George! C'mere and help!"

Another, identical boy was helping a boy with a shock of dark hair with his trunk. He called his twin over to help.

"Sorry, be right back," said the twin who was not George to Hermione.

The two lifted the other boys trunk into the carriage and then they trotted over to help her. With their assistance Hermione's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Hermione as she plopped down to sit. The twins nodded and were off,presumably to their own compartment. Hermione sat down next to the window. She drew the curtains and locked the door and changed into her school robes. By then, the train had begun to move. Hermione watched the countryside speed by. The door of the compartment slid open and Neville came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

Hermione shook her head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Hermione and said,

"You haven't seen my toad have you?"

"No, Neville? Isn't it? Do you want me to help you look for him?

"Sure, and yes, my name's Neville, the toad's Trevor, what's your name?"

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"Okay, let's go then, do you want to split up?"

"Sure, I'll take the side closest to us, and you can have the other half."

They left the compartment. Hermione opened every compartment door and asked if they had seen a toad, Neville's missing one. The only answers she received were varying degrees of no. While she was making her rounds she ran into a woman pushing a cart full of candies that Hermione had never seen before.

She went back to her compartment, Neville was there too.

"Want to come with me to the last one?" he asked her.

They walked together to the last door.

"I've already been here, I just wanted to come back in case." said Neville.

Hermione slid open the compartment door.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. After saying this Hermione surveyed the compartment. In it were the dark-haired boy who George had helped with his trunk. There was also quite a bit of the candy from the cart the woman had been pushing and the red-haired boy from Madam Malkin's. He was holding a rather fat, gray rat and a wand.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said the red-haired boy, but Hermione wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

Hermione sat down. The boy looked taken aback.

"Er - all right."

He cleared his throat.

_"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,_

_Turn this stupid fat rat yellow."_

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. The rat stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said Hermione. "Well,it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Hermione said this all very fast.

"I'm Ron Weasley," said the red-haired boy.

"Harry Potter," said the other.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course - i got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?" said Harry.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad. . . . Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking Neville with her.

For the remainder of their thirty minutes aboard the Hogwarts Express, Hermione and Neville searched for Trevor.

A voice echoed through the train; "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Hermione turned to Neville, " We should head back to our compartment Neville, they'll probably dismiss us from there."

And so, they walked back to their compartment and sat down. The train slowed down and finally stopped. Hermione and Neville walked out of the compartment and stood among the throngs of people in the corridor.

People then pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Hermione shivered in the cold night air. then a lamp cam bobbing over the heads of the students, and Hermione heard a familiar voice:

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind your step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Hermione thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on either side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Hermione and Neville followed Harry and Ron into their boat.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then - FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out of the castle.

They walked u pa flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE SORTING HAT

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Hermione's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursley's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Hermione could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Hermione nervously brushed a hand through her hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Hermione swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" she asked Neville.

"Some sort of test, I think. Gran says it isn't hard."

Hermione's heart sunk. A test of magic? She hadn't expected something like this the moment they arrived. She began whispering very fast to herself about all the spells she knew and how useful they might be in various situations.

Then something happened that made her jump about a foot in the air – several people behind her screamed.

"What the -?"

She gasped. So did the people around her. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying. "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are all you doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?'

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though her feet were glued to the floor, Hermione got into line behind a girl with black hair, with Neville behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Hermione had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in aline facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Hermione looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. She turned to Neville and whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in _Hogwarts a History_."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling at all, but Hermione had circumstantial evidence that there was one.

Hermione quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

Hermione thought at first that they might need to draw something out of it, then remembered that that was silly and not what magic was used for. She noticed that everyone else was also staring at the hat. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

_"Oh,you may not think I'm pretty,_  
><em> But don't judge on what you see,<em>  
><em> I'll eat myself if you can find <em>  
><em> A smarter hat than me.<em>  
><em> You can keep your bowlers black,<em>  
><em> Your tops hats sleek and tall,<em>  
><em> For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat.<em>  
><em> And I can cap them all.<em>  
><em> There's nothing hidden in your head <em>  
><em> The Sorting Hat can't see,<em>  
><em> So try me on and I will tell you <em>  
><em> Where you ought to be.<em>  
><em> You might belong in Gryffindor,<em>  
><em> Where dwell brave of heart,<em>  
><em> Their daring, nerve, and chivalry<em>  
><em> Set Gryffindors apart;<em>  
><em> You might belong in Hufflepuff,<em>  
><em> Where they are just and loyal,<em>  
><em> Those patient Hufflepuffs are true<em>  
><em> And unafraid of toil;<em>  
><em> Or yet wise old Ravenclaw,<em>  
><em> If you've a ready mind, <em>  
><em> Where those of wit and learning,<em>  
><em> Will always find their kind;<em>  
><em> Or perhaps in Slytherin<em>  
><em> You'll make your real friends,<em>  
><em> Those cunning folk use any means<em>  
><em> To achieve their ends.<em>  
><em> So put me on! Don't be afraid!<em>  
><em> And you won't get in a flap!<em>  
><em> You're safe in my hands(though I have none)<em>  
><em> For I'm a Thinking Cap!"<em>

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. it bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Neville whispered to Hermione. "That's a relief, I thought it might involve magic."

Hermione felt like pointing out that a singing hat probably involved magic, but she didn't because Professor McGonagall was now stepping forward with a roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Hermione saw the ghost of teh Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Hermione could see some red-haired boys catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin. She was a large, mean looking sort of girl.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" became another Hufflepuff, then "Finnigan, Seamus" entered Gryffindor.

Then it was Hermione's turn. When her name was called, she almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat on her head. A small voice whispered in her ear, "Hmmm, could be Ravenclaw, but, yes, GRYFFINDOR!"

That last part had been shouted to everyone and the Gryffindor table cheered again.

Neville also became a Gryffindor.

"Malfoy, Draco" was a Slytherin. There weren't many people left now.

"Moon". . ., "Nott" . . ., "Parkinson" . . ., then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . ., then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . ., and then "Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers broke out all over the hall, "Potter?, as in Harry Potter? The Boy-who-Lived?"

Harry slipped the hat on, it fell over his eyes. A minute or so later, the hat finally shouted out GRYFFINDOR!"

Hermione watched him take the hat off and walk shakily to the Gryffindor table.

The rest of the people in line were sorted. The two Gryffindors of this bunch were Ron and "Thomas, Dean". Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Hermione looked down at her empty plate. She was very hungry as the last food she'd eaten was breakfast.

She looked up at Albus Dumbledore as he got to his feet. He beamed at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, i would like to say a few words. And here they are; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Hermione didn't know whether she should laugh or take Dumbledore seriously.

"Is he - a bit mad?" she asked the second year sitting next to her.

"Mad?" said the second year quizzically. "He's a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Pass the beans will you?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table; roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, and ketchup.

Her parents hadn't deprived Hermione of good food, but well, they were dentists. Food was strictly tooth healthy around them. Hermione took small portions of everything except the gravy, she hated gravy.

The ghost wearing a ruff looked mournfully at all their plates.

"That does look good he said to no one in particular."

"Can't you -?" Harry asked from across the table.

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you - you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would _prefer_ you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy -"

"_Nearly_ Headless? How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.

"Like _this_," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, " So - new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the Cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable - he's the Slytherin ghost."

Hermione looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting over there, with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. he was sitting next to a pale blonde boy who didn't look happy to sit next to the ghost.

"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.

"I've never asked," said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, rice pudding . . .

As Hermione helped herself to a chocolate eclair, she turned to Percy Weasley and asked him about lessons. "I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult -"; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing -".

They continued in that vein until the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. the hall fell silent.

"Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. i have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Someone behind Hermione laughed, but no one else seemed to think this was very funny.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Hermione noticed that the other teachers' smiles seemed a bit forced.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,  
><em>

_Whether we be old and bald  
><em>

_Or young with scabby knees,  
><em>

_Our heads could do with filling  
><em>

_With some interesting stuff,  
><em>

_For now they're bare and full of air,  
><em>

_Dead flies and bits of fluff, _

_So teach us things worth knowing, _

_Bring back what we've forgot,  
><em>

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
><em>

_And learn until our brains all rot."  
><em>

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Hermione followed along at the back of the line. The line suddenly halted and Percy shouted;

"Peeves - show yourself."

A loud, rude, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching a bundle of walking sticks.

"Ooooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. 'Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it - Neville needed a leg up - and found themselves in teh Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory. Hermione and the others walked up a spiral staircase and they found their beds at last; three four posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. They pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed, and being girls, they talked and introduced themselves to each other. The two other girls were Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. Finally talk ceased and the three of them fell asleep.


End file.
